


214 is just a number (but to me it means everything)

by youngjaehyuns



Series: 214's all that's between us [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: 2young is my otp, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Youngjae's family is really supportive of him I swear, Youngjae-Centric, also I stan Got7, but for the sake of this fic, he also has a brother but he's not mentioned here, i gave youngjae's hand tremor a backstory, idk I'm just Choi Youngjae trash, if youngjae was a color he'd be yellow fite me, im not even sorry for this mess, is this a thing, it's more like distance, kinda angsty actually, once again for the sake of the fic, technically not marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 01:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8231165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngjaehyuns/pseuds/youngjaehyuns
Summary: Choi Youngjae never looked at the number branded on his wrist because he didn't want to disappoint whoever his soulmate was. He hoped he would never have to meet them so they could remain happy and unburdened by his existence. All he needed piano scores and his parent's approval. 214 meant nothing to him. 
Or so he thought.





	

When Youngjae was born, a cobalt 214 branded on the inside of his wrist, his parents had taken one look at him and sniffed in disdain. They had wanted a girl who was petite and quiet, instead they had gotten a boy who was born screaming.

Youngjae continued crying.

As he grew up he parents forced him into piano recitals and parties to be the person they wanted him to be. Youngjae never understood the soft little coos of his mother exclaiming that he was _so pretty_ or his father’s refusal at his request to go out and play with the other kids in the neighbourhood.

“Why would you want to play with those ruffians?” His father had shot back with an sneer. “You’re not like them, they won’t accept you.”

The six year old had went back to his room and cried, only for his mother to say it wasn’t proper behaviour for a doll like him and placed him on the piano stool to let his feelings out.

Youngjae wasn’t a doll, wasn’t a toy of any kind, but in his parent’s hand he felt like he was being played with. 

He didn’t understand the pitying glances of the patrons of all the parties he went to where he was dressed up. He didn’t understand his parent’s harsh glares when he messed a note in a song he had been playing for less than an hour up. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed the games he sometimes saw other kids playing when he was driven past. He certainly didn’t understand the cobalt digits on his wrist and whatever they meant.

When he asked about it, the number 214 which occasionally moved up or down depending on where he went but always returned to itself when he got home, his parents had simply dismissed him. 

“Youngjae sweetie, it doesn’t matter. You’re my little boy aren’t you?” His mother had said with a forced smile. “Now why don’t you play the song you’ve been learning for me?”

“Ignore it, whoever it is probably doesn’t care anyways. Why would they?” His father had said disapprovingly, face impassive.

What he did understand was the piano scores placed in front of him every day, the notes varying in each piece.

Music was comforting. It was constant and all Youngjae had to do was learn the notes that was printed out in front of him. 

So he played the piano and never thought about the cobalt digits on his wrist again.

~

By the time Youngjae was eleven, he was an accomplished pianist for his age, able to play better than many professionals decades older than him. He was able to play most pieces swiftly within a couple of days worth of practice. He was able to more knowledgeable on the different aspects of music than any of the other children at the parties.

But to his parents it was never enough. 

So he practiced and practice, trying to see the small smile his mother would show when he learned a new piece quicker than expected or the gruff nod his father would give him when he placed first into another competition. 

He had learned the meaning behind the numbers of his wrist, hearing a conversation between a mother and a child during a recital. 

“Mother! Look! My number dropped to 13!”

“Your soulmate is close by then. Let’s take a drive around later, okay?”

The term soulmate stood out to him. A trip to the internet during the following night had him learning about the digits on his wrist. How the numbers would change depending on the distance that stood between him and his soulmate. How the numbers would change to a name when they met.

It only made Youngjae want it gone more.

He wasn’t supposed to have a person made for him. All he had and needed were his piano scores and the approval of his parents. Whoever it was wouldn’t want him anyways.

He continued playing the piano, slender fingers falling upon the keys swiftly and practiced, well versed in their actions. 

Youngjae needed to be completely immersed in his piano for his parents. That was all he wanted, all he needed, all he was needed for.

He put a wristband over it under the guise of a wrist protector and looked away. Nobody would suspect anything.

He didn’t know if he was covering it up to please his parents or to hide his own fears away from himself.

~

Once when Youngjae was thirteen, he was at a piano competition at Busan. The wristband, the shield he hid behind, stood out against the suit he was wearing. Grudgingly he took it off.

The cobalt 214 had become a 34.

He began to panic, forcing himself to stay calm when his number was called.

Walking stiffly onto the stage, he bowed the audience and sat on the stool, his hands poised to play the piece he had learned. 

The flash of blue caught his eye and his watched in horror as the number decreased to 32.

The hall was silent and Youngjae wondered if they could hear the frantic beating of his heart.

The digits were now 29.

That was the first time Youngjae had gotten second place.

~

Youngjae’s life was turned upside down when he was fourteen.

“What do you mean he has a hand tremor?” He watched in fear as his mother screeched at the doctor.

“It means he’s been overworking his fingers. Madam, I need you to calm down.” The doctor has said in an irritated tone. “He needs rest if he ever wants to use his fingers in a couple of years.”

“When will he be able to play the piano again? He has a competition in a few weeks.” His father spoke up, the first time he had after the news had been delivered.

“Sir, you need to understand that any amount of strain to his fingers for the next six months might disable them. Permanently. There’s no way he’s able to play the piano for the next eight months at least. This is if you want him to ever _pick up a pen_ ever again, much less play the piano.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll give him a month at most.” His father barked, the vein in his neck showing from his annoyance.

Youngjae sat there and looking at his hands, unable to believe what he had been told. The piano was all he had, they were taking it away?

With a start, he realised the cobalt numbers had dropped to 93.

He hoped the never would never drop below 30 ever again, thinking of the 29 which sat on his wrist as he played. He never wanted to meet whoever held the other set of digits. Whoever it was wouldn’t want him, now that even the piano, all he was good at, was taken away from him too. 

Youngjae was lead out of the doctor’s office with a numbness in his heart and a cobalt 93 on his wrist.

~

By the time his fifteen birthday had rolled by, Youngjae had turned to singing. Piano had been taken away from him in the blink of an eye. 

Without the piano, he was nothing.

The only thing he had left was his voice.

So he sang.

Music was what his life was built on, and now that it came crashing down, Youngjae found himself scrabbling to rebuild whatever had been there with the remains.

He sang until his throat hurt and his parents would look at him again. It was all he had ever known, there was nothing left for him.

When he was young, his mother said his voice was sweet, like honey dissolving into water. He had grinned and taken pride in the soft smile she had given him.

The fond look used to be his motivation, the reason he pushed himself.

He hasn’t seen it for a year. 

The only constant in his life was the 214 on his wrist which would change every once in a while, but return after a period of time.

Even that seemed ready to be taken away.

Youngjae wouldn’t be surprised if it did.

~

A few months off from his sixteenth birthday, he felt a spiking pain on his wrist, and he had torn off the wristband to find the cobalt fading.

_When a soulmate rejects his or her other, the color of their marks will begin to fade._

The color flooded back in after a few minutes, and Youngjae left out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Even his soulmate didn’t want him, Youngjae wondered why he was nervous.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t expecting it anyways.

~

Youngjae was eight months into being sixteen when a man stopped him after a singing competition and asked him if he wanted to be a kpop idol.

He had never been so stunned before.

Not when he had won his first competition, not when he had learned the meaning of the digits on his wrist, not even when piano had been ripped away from him.

He listened to the man rattle off, giving him details about the entertainment label he was under. 

According to this man, JYP entertainment wanted him as a trainee.

And Youngjae stood there with his shock wearing off, and thinks _screw it_.

He brings the contract home with him, taking a deep breath before going into the living room where he knew his parents would be.

He gives them the contract.

His father reads through it, a skeptical look coming onto his face. The sneer he wore when he turned back to Youngjae crushed his hopes.

“You’re actually considering this? After all we’ve done for you, you throw it away for a spur of the moment thing?”

Youngjae shrunk back.

He didn’t know what he was expecting.

His father’s tone was mocking, pressing Youngjae into the ground with just a look.

Across the room, his mother's expression was so full of hurt he almost wanted to applaud her for her acting skills.

Youngjae was _so tired_.

“I am,”

It took him a moment to realised he was the one who had said it, hand going up to his mouth by reflex to hide his shock.

His father’s eyes widened, before they narrowed. After a few moments of scrutinising, he turned to the last page and signed it.

“Then go and do whatever you want, you’ve already bought us so much disappointment I figure more can’t hurt.”

Youngjae flinched from his words and accepted the stack of paper presented to him gingerly. 

He left the living room with his spirits higher than they had ever been and a gleaming 214 branded on his wrist.

~

Youngjae had just turned seventeen, barely a month into his training when he was told he would debut.

He was surprised.

His dancing was mediocre, his visuals above average at best. His vocals were better than all the other trainees available, granted, but finding one with a better balance of the skills would have been a better choice.

He found that he didn’t really have a problem with it.

He could feel the glares of the other trainees when he enters the dorms the next day and thinks back to what his father had said.

He wonders if whoever’s in his group will hate him like how everybody he has known does.

The wristband on his hand feels heavier.

~

They don’t.

Youngjae meets Mark, Jackson, Yugyeom and Bambam a week after, having seen them around. All four of them had known each other for years, being trainees for much longer than he has.

But they don’t hate him.

The conversation is awkward at first, Jackson and Bambam trying to keep the conversation going. There’s no underlying tone of disgust or dimly veiled looks of dislike, though.

That’s more than what Youngjae had been hoping for.

Slowly, he warms up to them, and the conversations flows much more easily after that.

He learns that Mark and Jackson are soulmates who are already dating, and BamBam and Yugyeom are another pair who are taking their time.

He doesn’t know why he feels bitter.

~

It’s a couple of days later they’re informed that they will be debuting with a pair who had already debuted, but had to be disbanded because they weren’t getting enough attention.

Youngjae wonders if _they_ will hate him for imposing on their group. His interactions with the other four have been going more smoothly than what he had envisioned, there was bound to be a setback.

He finds himself with the other trainees in the lounge, waiting for the pair to enter.

The doors open and two young men step through, the first one with a gruff look on his face and a stiff, robotic walk.

Youngjae turns to the other one the same time they turn too, and their eyes meet for a split second.

Immediately, he chokes from the burning feeling on his wrist, looking up to find the other man clutching at his wrist in pain too.

He rips off the wristband to find _Park Jinyoung_ branded on his wrist in neat cobalt cursive letters.

He sees a flash of yellow on the wrist of the other man, _Jinyoung_.

There’s a sharp intake of breath to his left and the first stranger turns to the second with realisation and heartbreak in his eyes that turns to steel as he twists to look at Youngjae.

Youngjae doesn’t even acknowledge him, eyes gazing over the angelic features of the man who holds the same set of numbers as he does.

“Hey,” He breaths, voice barely over a whisper.

His soulmate smiles back.

 

**+Bonus**

Youngjae’s twenty when he realises he’s in love.

He’s sitting in one of the practice rooms as he scrolls through messages from IGOT7 about the release of Hard Carry when he feels two arms wrapped around his waist.

Leaning back into the touch, he lets out a soft sigh.

“What are you doing?” came a soft whisper next to his ear.

Youngjae could never get enough of that voice.

“Just thinking about how far we’ve come,” He says gently back, twist around to look at Jinyoung.

“Your breath tickles,” Jinyoung giggles quietly.

Youngjae snorts and stands, taking a glance at the piano in the corner of the room and wonders where he would be without it.

“Play for me?” He hears Jinyoung’s muttered question and he touches the black and white keys without any burden in his heart for the longest time he could remember.

It’s only when he finishes playing the piece he had played at the competition during Busan seven years back and finds so much awe and love staring back at him does he realise it.

He’s utterly gone for Park Jinyoung and he doesn’t know what’ll he’ll do without the other.

He finds that he doesn’t really care.

Youngjae walks out of the practice room with a genuine smile on his face and a bright cobalt Park Jinyoung shining on his wrist.

**Author's Note:**

> Any sort of reaction is welcomed lmao.
> 
> There's another fic in the pov of Jinyoung being written so wait for that I guess.


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